Three In a Million
by CaptainAssmericaInTights
Summary: They were just three girls living in New York City. After a night at a bar, their world is turned into heaven. I mean, how many woman get the chance to say they've stolen the hearts of Captain America, Tom Hiddleston, or Loki? Plus, Stark agrees to let them live in the Tower... (Please give it a chance. A little OOC/AU)
1. Chapter 1

**THREE IN A MILLION**

_They were just three girls living in New York City. After a night at a bar, their world is turned into heaven. I mean, how many woman get the chance to say they've stolen the hearts of Captain America, Tom Hiddleston, or Loki? Plus, Stark agrees to let them live in the Tower..._

This fanfic is written by three dreaming teenage girls (Kristin, Katelyn, and Megan) who all they want is to have sex with their favorite fictional characters/actors.

It's just for fun (and so that we have something to do during Pre-Algebra), and we hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoy writing it.

We do not own Marvel. Or Tom Hiddleston. Which is rather unfortunate.

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

**(Written by Kristin)**

**Kris's POV**

"Kris! Your hair looks fine! Get your ass out of the bathroom! Let's go!"

With a sigh, I told my reflection in the mirror: "She sounds like my mother."

A final dab of lipstick and fluff of the hair, I strutted out in my short black dress. My heels were brown with a vintage style. I loved them.

"For the record, I was doing my lipstick," I joined Kat at the front door. Our plain, old-fashioned apartment was small; one bedroom, one bath, a compact kitchen and TV room. I slept on the couch, she slept on the bed. We had been friends all through high school and after we graduated, instead of attending college like some goody-girls, we escaped California and ran off to the The Big Apple. Our job? Waitresses at a pizza joint. Tonight was Friday though, and that meant a night off. Thus the weekly trip to the bar.

Kat wore a pair of ripped, faded jeans, a half-top shirt; her dirty blonde hair was braided in the fishtail style, something productive I had done earlier today.

My little black dress was tight, revealing my curves. It ended just under my ass, showing off my ivory legs. My auburn hair was long, layered, and dip-dyed blonde. It hung freely, creating a waterfall that ended at my waist.

"Is Meg meeting us there?" I questioned, as we made our descent in the elevator.

"Yeah," Kat answered, checking something on her phone.

Upon entering the lobby, the comotion of the NY streets became audible. Horns honked, sirens sang, and people cursed at each other.

We exchanged greetings with Larry the doorman, and exited onto the pandemoneum of the sidewalk.

Kat and I both tried to hail a cab, collding with unfortunate passerbys. She was successful before me, and we both slid onto the worn leather seats.

"Martini's," I commanded.

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><p>In neon, cursive lettering a sign saying <em>Martini's<em> hung above a door leading to an exclusive bar. We personally knew the owner, and therefore we were allowed access and a few free rounds.

"Well it's about time," Megan approached us from behind. Wearing skinny jeans, a purple, sleeveless, sparkly top, combat boots, and a black leather jacket that complemeInted her brown hair, I could tell she was ready.

Even with all the cars and people, you could hear the music blaring; I recognized it as Nickelback's "Burn It To the Ground". With over 600 songs in my iTunes, I knew music well.

We entered with a confident swag...or as well as you can swag in four inch heels. As soon as we walked in, we started bets on who would be taken home by the hottest guy. Meg and I had twenty bucks on Kat. I was at the bar first; as soon as Meg and Kat had their drinks they dispersed into the crowd, searching for targets. Staying at the bar, I took a seat and crossed my legs. Scanning the crowd, I took a few sips of my Lime Budlight. It was bitter with a touch of that acidic lemon taste, yet it satisfied me. I was close to the last sip when Mr. Fucking Perfection sat down next to me.

His blonde hair waas perfectly combed with a classic side part. White fabric clung to his skin, and I couldn't help but marveling at his toned, fucking HUGE muscles. He wore slacks and dress shoes; they were extremely out of place. For some reason he seemed familiar, like a celebrity in a movie that can't remember the name of.

"You don't look like you belong here," I playfully smiled at him.

A faint pink developed on his cheeks, which surprised me. With his manly godness, he didn't strike me as the shy type.

"I don't, ma'am. You could say I'm babysitting a few maniac friends."

"A soldier babysitting in a bar. I'd read a book with that title," I twirled my hair on my finger. It was pathetic how cheesy my flirting was.

"What'd you want?" the bartender by the name of Michael wiped a glass, stading before my newest crush.

"Uhhh," he hesitated. Either he didn't know the name of some hard alcohol, or he wasn't sure what he enjoyed in the division.

Deciding to help him out, I interrupted, "Get him a frangelica. Put it on my tab. Also, maybe a refill on this beer?"

"Whatever you say Kris," Michael shrugged.

"You know him?" he asked. Did I mention his blue eyes were like fucking rubies?!

"Tell me your name," I leaned against the counter.

Eyeing me suspiciously, he said, "Steve."

"Steeeeeve...?" I drug it out to question, the same as asking What's your last name?.

"Just Steve," he crossed his arms.

"Well, then, 'Just Steve', it's a pleasure to meet you," I twirled my hair on my finger.

"What's your name?"

"Hmmm, Just Kris," I teased.

With a sigh, he surrended to my little game. "My name is Steve Rogers."

My jaw dropped. I had just been flirting with Captain America. Holy _shit. _So that's where I recognized him. From the News during the alien invasion of New York.

"Oh. Whoa. Plot twist," I blinked.

He laughed. "Don't let the name scare you. I'm not always on duty."

"Lemme guess, those maniac's you're babysitting..."

"My job is to get Tony Stark, Tom Hiddleston, and Loki back to Stark Tower alive and in one piece by four in the morning."

I glanced at my watch. 9:42. "We have a few hours."

Michael placed our orders on the table.

"What is it that you ordered me again?" he raised an eyebrow at the shot glass in front of him. I poured my beer into a tall glass.

"It's called a frangelica. It's sweet. You should like it," I assured him. "And since we've got all night, I could get you more familiar with quite a few drinks."

"Well, um, I can't get drunk, so that's definately an option."

"Now that, is the best goddamn badass superpower ever. And I shall use it to my advantage."

"It's Kris, right?"

"Mhm."

"Pleasure to meet you."

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><p><strong>Kristin A-N:<strong> Ta-da! Chapter One! Please review, follow or favorite if you enjoyed! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**(Written by Katelyn)**

**KAT'S POV**

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><p>I weaved my way through the crowd, dodging drunken psychopaths and sober designated drivers until I reached my destination. Of the multiple bars inside this bar, my favorite was located in the back. Kris opted for one closer to the entrance, but not me. The guys in the back bar were a little nuts, just the way they should be. I hopped onto a stool next to a man wearing a black shirt that was quite a bit too small. I assumed he was borrowing it from a friend, because he didn't seem like the kind of guy who likes ACDC.<p>

He turned to me. His eyes were piercing. He wasn't ripped, but he wasn't fat either. My friends, he was perfect. His black hair curled up at the end, and I was seriously tempted to stroke it. I held back the urge and introduced myself.

"Hey." I nodded.

He eyeballed me.

"Hello." He replied.

I ordered my usual drink, a frangelica. Kris had introduced me to it, and now it's my default. The man kept watching me. Target acquired. I sipped at my drink and tried to make conversation, which was harder than usual. I had just asked him what he does for a living when none other than Tony Stark glides in a sits next to us. I'm about to say something when Tony whispers in the target's ear.

All I hear is wingman. I grin.

"So what's your name again?" I ask.

"Uh, Loki."

I connect the dots. He did seem familiar, and now I know why.

"Oh."

"He's not that bad." Tony interrupts.

"Oh I know. I was on his side the whole time." I smile.

Loki seems touched. Not really, I'm kidding. He seems unmoved and unemotional. Now I'm determined to get to him.

"So Loki, do you have a girlfriend?"

He shakes his head. Tony says no. I get the message. Tony has been sending me "eye messages" for the past five minutes, flicking his eyes from me to Loki and back and forth. I laugh and that confuses Loki.

"So you wouldn't mind if I did this?" I say, and kiss him.

And I'm proud to say, he didn't mind. He kissed me back. And for an alien, he's a dang good kisser. So I ask him where he lives, and he says Stark Tower, and I tell

him how cool it would be to see the tower in person. Tony nudges Loki.

"I guess you could come and see it." Loki babbles.

He seems shy, despite his "take over New York" scheme. I smile.

"But first, we must get absolutely wasted." Tony informs us.

The thought isn't unappealing, but at the same time it is. As thrilling as Loki is, he is also a criminal of sorts, and I can't imagine it's wise to be drunk with him. But then again, I'm not known for being wise. We all order a drink and make a toast to new friends and maybe more. I grin at Loki, and his toothy smile in response is enough to persuade me to chug down my beer. Tony watches in utter jealousy. I'm pretty good with chugging things; I've had a lot of practice. My drink was gone in seconds, and I slammed the cup on the counter.

"Next!"

And that's how the night went, me chugging, Tony trying to beat me, Loki watching. Eventually Tony and I made a game of it, and I won repetitively. Loki was slowly warming up to me. Hours later, we were all standing up on the bar, screaming the lyrics to the song that was blaring. I could practically see Kris slapping a hand to her face in humiliation. Before I can even act on my vision, Loki grabs my hand and sings the lyrics to me. There's no stopping now. I kiss him again.

"THIS ONE'S MINE TONY! ALL MINE!" Loki screamed in Tony's face.

I laughed. I looked at Tony as if to say, 'all his'. Tony's playful shove resulted in him toppling off of the bar. Loki and I were laughing hysterically, as well as Tony, but the rest of the bar didn't find it so funny. After we laughed until our stomachs ached, we got off the bar and sat on the floor, people watching from below. Rumor has it you can judge someone by their footwear, and that's what we were doing. Tony decided that his kind of person wouldn't be wearing shoes, and I laughed at that. My favorite shoes were sneakers and boots, and I actually spotted quite a few people who I could probably make friends with. Loki was looking for manly black boots, and he found like four candidates.

"This has been unsuccessful." I say. "Let's dance."

And we do dance. We dance like maniacs. I've never danced so hard in my life. Tony was, unfortunately, not gifted in dance. He waved his arms like nuts, and threw himself at people, while I danced in hopes to drive Loki nuts. But he was focusing on his own dancing. His feet seemed to tap here and there and his arms were swinging to the song.

"You guys can't dance!" I tease.

Loki seems offended, and I kiss him to make up for it.

"You can sure as heck kiss though." I inform him.

His smile is devious. That scares me into dancing again. He seems like his world conquering self. He examines the rest of the dancing men and copies them. Bad idea. I scoot away to his confusion. The rest of the men in this bar are dancing so terribly naughty that even I wouldn't go near them. I find myself back at the bar, and within minutes Tony and Loki are back with me. We go back to footwear watching. I hold Loki's hand and he doesn't seem to notice me scoot closer until my head is on his shoulder.

"You're beautiful, Kat." He says.

I wasn't expecting that. Usually I'm hot or cool, occasionally sexy, but never beautiful. I look up at him with a smile.

"Thanks for saying that."

He smiles in return and this time, he kisses me. Thank God for nights off, am I right?


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Written by Megan**

**(Edited by Kristin)**

**MEG'S POV**

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><p>I heard my phone and put down my brush. It was Kris; she was asking me if I was ready. I told her I would meet her at the bar. I pulled on my favorite shirt and grabbed my purse. As I rushed out the door, I snatched my shoes and jacket, running down the hall to the elevator. Yes, I live in a condo. It's great, but really, the best part is that it attracts guys.<p>

I started to put on my shoes when the elevator opened to reveal my ex-boyfriend. Which was also the reason I don't enjoy visiting the club on 12th street.

"Hey Megan," he said with a slur.

I just nodded, knowing he wasn't sober. His eyes were red and swollen, no doubt the result of hours spent drinking.

"I can't believe I wasted my time with you," his eyes narrowed, and he stumbled, catching himself on the doorway. "Now I have sex everynight."

"I'm not surprised. You only wanted me for my body," I growled.

"Well, this is my stop," he snapped.

"Hope to kill you later," I smiled overly-sweet with fake joy.

Finally, I reached the first floor, and then running out to the sidewalk to hail a cab. When arriving at the bar, I saw Kat and Kris. We got our drinks and departed.

As I walked away I spotted a smaller bar in the corner of the smoke filled room with a man sitting at one of the stools. As I approached I noticed how fucking gorgeous he was. His red curly hair bounced around his ears, complimenting his green-blue eyes. He was wearing a suit with a black tie...rather classy for a place like this. I slid into the seat next to him, and he smiled.

"Hey," I greeted confidently.

"Hello, miss," he answered with a fluffy British accent.

Sweet on the inside, and God-knows-what is in the inside. My type.

"Can I buy you a drink, beautiful?" he raised a hand, grabbing the bartender's attention.

I laugh. "As you get to know me, you shall see that whenever I'm in a bar, I have a drink in my hand at all times," I added an elegance of sass.

"Feisty. I like that in a girl...what's your name, love?"

"I go by Meg, but the real name is Megan."

"No last name?"

"I don't tell my people my last name. Ever."

"Sorry. My name is Tom, but the real name is Thomas."

I was sitting next to the best fucking man ever. I couldn't tell if he had a six pack under that neat, ironed shirt, but I was willing to find out. And to be honest, I felt like a piece of shit next to this sexy perfection. A song called "Talk Dirty" came on, and I began muttering the lyrics. Tom glanced at me with a curious grin. I had to get him drunk. I just had to. And Jesus Christ, WHAT THE FUCK IS UNDER THAT DAMN WHITE SHIRT?!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Written by Kristin**

**KRIS'S POV**

**A-N: If you haven't noticed yet, this entire thing is a little OOC as far as the Avengers characters go. I'll try to get to Steve's personalty and dark side later, but for now, I'll just let him enjoy a night at the bar.**

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><p>So far he had tried several different hard drinks, thanks to my suggestions. He seemed to enjoy them, but the smiles he was giving me now were fake. Polite boredom. Now I just needed to think of something to...I don't know, spritz him up? Okay, maybe that wasn't the word I was looking for.<p>

A song came on, and I recognized it in a heartbeat, as the first few notes echoed around the room. Cheers drowned it out for a few seconds; everyone knew this song, everyone loved this song.

I grinned wide, turning to him, only for his confused face to greet me. His fucking beautiful face that was fucking goddamn perfection. _Steve. _The name suddenly had sooo much meaning. His eyes were blue, like a cloudless, flawless sky on a summer day. But those puppy eyes, that confused expression...

"You don't know know this song?" I stared in disbelief.

His cheeks filling with red, he answered, "Nope."

"What _planet _are you from?!"

"Uhhh, I know someone from Asgard?" he flashed a geeky smile.

"That doesn't count."

The first lines bounced around the room, off-key drunks bellowing with it.

_Just a small town girl_

_Livin' in a lonely world_

_She took the midnight train goin' anywhere_

_Just a city boy_

_Born and raised in South Detroit_

_He took the midnight train goin' anywhere_

"Let's dance!" I grabbed his hand, expecting him to follow me. Instead, he didn't budge, and almost looked scared at my idea.

"What?" I questioned.

"I, um," his blush returned. "It's just- I don't know how to dance."

"It's not that hard, I can teach you," I shrugged. I twirled around, snapping my fingers to the beat. An idiot? Moron? Drunk? Yep, that's what I looked like. Did I give a shit? No. Because I was about to dance with motherfucking Captain America.

He hesitantly joined me on the dance floor. I started hopping around, moving my arms, shaking my ass. I wasn't the best dancer, but I was in a bar. Who cared? Steve observed me like he was watching a tutorial video on YouTube, then he attempted to copy me.

"I'm not the best dancer!" I shouted to him over the noise.

"Neither am I!" he answered.

Plenty of people joined in at the next few lines:

_Singer in a smokey room_

_Smell of wine and cheep prefume_

_For a smile they can share the night_

_It goes on and on and on and on_

The colorful lights reflecting off our faces...surrounded by others just trying to find a way in the world...the taste of alcohol still lingering on our tongues...and a night to do whatever the fuck we wanted...

Of course, when the chorus came, I couldn't help but joining in, gradually getting closer to the Captain.

_Strangers, waiting_

_Up and down the boulevard_

_Their shadows, searchin'_

_In the night_

_Streetlight people_

_Livin' just to find emotion_

_Hiding somewhere in the night_

I was rather proud when I hit the high note. Not just the fact that I had, for once, successfully sang the song, but for the fact that my hands were in Steve Rogers's, and he was laughing. And I was singing. And we were dancing. And the night was ours.

In between lyrics, he said, "I didn't know you could sing."

"You didn't ask," I teased. "There's a lot more to me than what you think."

"So I get to know your last name?"

"Evans," I answered. "The name's Kris Evans [I'm sorry, I had to]."

"Kris Evans," he nodded his head, as if to give an approval. My name from his mouth... My name was holy enough for the lips of an angel.

"I like-" he began, but I pressed my finger to his lips, cutting him off. Then, I began to sing again.

_Working hard to get my fill_

_Everybody wants a thrill_

_Payin' anything to roll the dice_

_Just one more time_

I twirled around, landing in his arms.

_Some will win_

_Some will lose_

_Some were born to sing the blues_

_Oh, the movie never ends_

_It goes on and on and on and on_

"I like you," he smiled down at me, picking me up with his fucking enormous muscles. His embrace was warm and loving and perfect. So goddamn perfect. If only seconds could last for centuries, then I would be truly happy.

"I really like you," I replied, and blue eyes met blue eyes.

If only I could freeze this night for seventy years.


End file.
